


Proving Them Wrong

by Reality 2_0 (reality_2_0)



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-02-16 11:40:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2268357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reality_2_0/pseuds/Reality%202_0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>set April 1995; (not) just a blow-job</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proving Them Wrong

He hadn’t wanted to know what she had written, but it was impossible for him to avoid the news. People jumping on his wife, making strange, false accusations wasn’t anything new. Neither was the exploitation of his sex life – fictional or real. However, that didn’t change his feelings, the urge to slug that lying woman, to scream at the media to shut up, to tell them in detail about the wonderful night he had spent with his wife a few weeks ago.

Although he knew that their positions demanded they at times sleep in different rooms in different cities on different continents, it didn’t mean he had to like it. The only upside of it all was the reunion.

For a few minutes, he allowed himself to lean back in his chair, stare outside the window and let his mind wander.

 

He loved getting up to the residence, knowing she would be there, after days of having been a grass widower.  
At first, he checked in on his daughter, though. Finding her asleep, he quietly closed the door and went in search of his elusive wife.

He found her in the solarium reading a book, already in her sleepwear. For a few moments, he leaned against the doorframe, just watching her. Eventually, she turned her head, looked at him, a smile forming on her lips. He suspected she had sensed him earlier but had wanted to give him the chance to observe her just like she liked to watch him from time to time when he wasn’t looking.

“Hey,” he said, reciprocating her smile as he walked over.

“Hey,” she replied. Marking the page, she closed the book and swung her legs off the couch.

Stopping in front of her, he ran his hands through her hair and leaned down to kiss her softly but deeply. “How was the trip?”

“You really want to know right now?” She eyed him questioningly before she grabbed him and pulled him down for another kiss, this one more passionate than the prior one.

“On second thought, no.” He grinned broadly like a kid in a candy store; an expression she loved and even more so when she was the cause for it.

She laughed. “Thought so.”

As he captured her mouth again, she loosened his belt, causing him to abandon her lips in favour of a surprised look. Generally, they limited any carnal activities that went beyond kissing and cuddling to their private rooms. The danger of somebody walking in on them was just too high. Although the agents of the Secret Service saw a lot during their time on presidential detail, she absolutely drew the line at them seeing her naked. The same applied to the White House staff.

Right now, however, they were alone – at least, as alone as they could get under the circumstances – and she had apparently missed him as much as he had missed her. So after being separated for over a week, she seemed to think they deserved to be a bit daring, a bit more carefree.

“Problem?” she asked innocently while undoing the button of his pants, then lowering the zipper.

Still looking at her with disbelief in his eyes, he shook his head.

“Good.”

A moment later, his pants hit the floor, followed shortly by his underwear.

He pushed his hands into her hair, stroking her tenderly. “You don’t...”

She didn’t let him finish the sentence. “I want to. I missed you.” The love visible in her eyes emphasised the statement, the last words spoken by her before she pressed her lips against his stomach and kissed her way down while stroking his already half-hard cock with one hand, massaging his balls with the other. Under her ministrations, he hardened fully.

Not caring whether she would leave a mark, she sucked at the skin of his stomach before she trailed the tip of her tongue along his erection and closed her lips around its tip. There was no mistaking his delight upon her action as a not too quiet moan escaped him before he could catch himself and bite down on his lower lip to muffle the sound. They might be alone for all practical purposes, but this was still the White House and they still had a daughter who was sleeping nearby so some restraint was called for nonetheless.

She didn’t make it easy for him, though. After the many years they had spent together, loving each other, making love to, with each other, she knew how to push his buttons and did so right now very effectively.

Although his love for this particular position fell into the category of information the public didn’t need and shouldn’t have, there was no denying it. And why should he? A vast majority of red-blooded men would surely agree with him on this. For some, it was about power, about seeing a woman (or man) on her (or his) knees in front of them, servicing them. Not so for him. He hated to see women (or any person for that matter) degraded. For him, it was about the sensations that were different from other forms of intercourse. Sharp tongues might say that it was a very good way to shut up his wife and put her big mouth to good use. Alternating between applying pressure with her tongue and lips, scratching with her teeth and sucking, she proved that she indeed had a talent for this oral dissipation, but he generally preferred not to gag her (like others suggested) as her mind had been and still was a huge appeal for him and he loved having discussions and even arguments with her.

That wasn’t to say he wanted her to stop and start a casual conversation about US Congress. Definitely not. Fortunately, she didn’t give any indication of ending this activity any time soon.

However, she did slow down, released him from her mouth, making him groan in frustration.

She grinned up at him. “Patience, dear. Patience,” she said, knowing full well it wasn’t one of his virtues, at least not under these circumstances.

He growled at her playfully. “Tease.”

“So you do want me to stop.”

“Darling.”

“Oh, shut up, will you?” she admonished him, cupping his butt with both hands and closing her lips around his erection again.

This time, he didn’t manage to stifle the moan. He really should have closed the door on his way in was his last coherent thought before she scrambled his mind for good with her ministrations, working him with mouth and hands in tandem. Still, she refused to let him come fast, pausing every time he came within a second’s distance from orgasm. He couldn’t decide whether to bless or curse her for dragging out the experience. The longer it lasted, the more his body screamed for release, the more he leaned toward the latter, though.

When his legs started to feel as if they were made of rubber and he couldn’t take it any longer, he started to beg her to have mercy on him. For a moment, he was unsure whether she would give in, but then she relented, sucked hard, pushed him over the edge.

Straightening out his thoughts again, he found himself sitting on the couch beside her, still breathing erratically.

“Wow,” was all he managed to get out. Much to her amusement, apparently, as his statement caused her to laugh.

“Why, thank you, Mr. President.”

Stroking her face tenderly with one hand, he smiled at her. “May I repay the favour?”

 

They hadn’t gotten much sleep that night. He smiled. He might want to deny, to disprove the accusations made against his wife, but maybe it was a good thing that people didn’t really know her, didn’t know what she could do. Less competition, lower chances of losing the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Shaking himself out of his reverie before he truly got lost in it, he shifted his concentration back to the matters at hand. Break was over, there was work to be done.

The End


End file.
